Hatori Graveyard Prologue
by Weir the Warlock
Summary: The 'origin story' of the infamous Dark Fellowship- a group of antiheroes on a Prime world of my own design.
1. Chapter 1

The Dark Fellowship

The Hatori Graveyard

.

Prologue

They were prisoners. Freaks and monsters of every variety, captured somehow by a gifted wizard, brought to his multi-chambered vault and compelled by powerful magic to guard the enchanted treasures within. That magus had long vanished, his tower above defeated by time but his wizardry kept the inhabitants of this underground zoo bound, kept them young. Over the decades intruders sought the vault out to slay some of the beasts and plunder their charges; a few even succeeded. But the consequences of one such raid would prove farther-reaching than those before…

The mind flayer crumpled onto its back, a small crossbow bolt driven through each of its pupil-less eyes, the short tentacles drooping from its face twitching even in death. Its killers, two dark-skinned elves in armour withdrew from the entranceway, at which point a third strode inside, a bound spellbook hanging from his robe of rothe' wool, one of his gloved hands holding a staff made from the femur of an unknown horror that once stalked the caverns and tunnels deep in this world's crust.

This elf's name was Shoutanei, and he was a promising student from his home city's college of spellcraft. He scanned the shelves against the room's walls sagging with aged volumes before crouching over the corpse of the brain-eating freak that up until seconds before called this chamber home. Searching its pockets, he tossed aside a useless fluted instrument before opening a scroll tube to peruse the roll of parchment it hid.

The warriors and priestesses of the dark elves were too cloaked in delusions of racial superiority to see the worth in learning to speak or read any languages other than their own or that of their demon mistresses, but magi such as Shoutanei knew better. Upon examination he realized he held a scroll for a disintegrate spell; though he hadn't advanced enough to learn the spell in his studies, he could cast it from this folio, though attempting to do so carried risks.

One of his *superiors* from without barked his name, Shoutanei tucked the sheaf inside his robe before turning to see what the shrew wanted.

Ardulae, the wizard's eldest sister and the high priestess leading the expedition pointed down the corridor. A humanoid wrapped in featureless grey hide ran crashing into the walls, laughing manically and shifting its appearance to creatures of other races, with no obvious rhyme or reason to its actions.

"A doppelganger," Shoutanei whispered; he'd been taught such shape shifters existed but had never knowingly seen one until now.

"Such a freak," the priestess Molvayas, (another sister of Shoutanei) spat, "It is obviously insane." At her words Huylan, the head of the drow warriors stepped forward raising his sword.

Shoutanei moved to block the killer, "It could provide useful information- if its mind were healed." Ardulae pondered his words silently, then decided to risk it.

Shoutanei took the doppelganger by the arm, holding it still enough for Ardulae to cast the spell. When she finished, it looked toward the one who made its shattered mind whole, only to recoil as if sensing the contempt and malice within; which it did though only Shoutanei knew it could.

"Easy, easy," Shoutanei said in Surface Common, with a soothing tone. The doppelganger met his eyes and relaxed, sensing the wizard felt not the sheer loathing for it the other drow did, "What's your name?" the mage asked.

"Ga- Garadon," the doppelganger answered.

"While we're young, *dear brother*," Ardulae seethed.

Shoutanei fought down a retort, then told Garadon, again in Surface Common, "She and the others you see are neither your friends nor mine, should they plunder this place they will have no use for you. You must help me lure them to their deaths."

Garadon's eyes bulged at the elf's words, but nodded and told him what he needed to know. Shoutanei spoke to the other dark elves in drow, "He says there is a sealed entrance beyond a chamber once inhabited by cloakers; he doesn't know what it holds but its guardian is deadlier than any others here."

Garadon led the drow to said chamber. The cloakers had been long ago been slain and whatever they protected stolen. Shoutanei defeated the massive steel door with a rusting grasp spell before casting one of cloudkill toward the space on the other side; soon thirty small creatures even Shoutanei could not identify dropped dead from the ceiling. Once the poison cloud finally dissipated the other drow shoved Shoutanei aside, telling him to "Stay behind where you're useful." The wizard obeyed, only when they could not see his face did he smile.

Garadon followed them, though from a short distance. Somehow the chamber repelled all light, yet with their colourless darkvision the elves saw at the far wall a small chest beneath the form of a great cat cast from bronze- which abruptly turned to flesh and lunged toward the nearest dark elf, claws bared and hissing.

The battle was brutal, eight times they struck the creature down only for something else to tear out of the flesh of the one before and begin the fight anew. Though among the most skilled warriors and mightiest priestesses of their city, the drow gradually fell before this foe; until a dog-sized horned, scaly biped with a lashing tail and shell bristling with spikes, leapt to tackle the second-last drow standing- Ardulae herself.

Seeing his opportunity, Shoutanei brought out and read the scroll he claimed from the mind flayer's corpse. A green ray lancing from the page struck the combatants before him; as they turned to dust, so did the scroll. The wizard scanned the bodies of the other drow, relieved to see all of them truly dead.

Striding amidst the torn remains of those he had feared and despised all his days, Shoutanei focused on the chest in front of him. On saying the right words, the small chest unlocked itself with an audible click; yet as Shoutanei approached it the doppelganger bade him to stop.

"It might be trapped," Garadon backed out from the room, when it returned Shoutanei recognized burglar's tools in the shifter's hand.

"I used to make a living as a thief- that's actually how the mage who built this place got me," Garadon shrugged.

After Garadon detected and disabled several potentially deadly surprises Shoutanei peered into the chest, admittedly disappointed by what he saw. It seemed the architect of the vault had gone to so much trouble to guard a simple mace. Only when the elf picked up the weapon did he hear parchment rustling in the cudgel's hollow haft.

Breaking the mace in two, Shoutanei shook the parchment out of the haft; what he discovered brought out a shudder from him. He held two more spells- either one capable of bringing ruin to whole nations; compared to them the disintegrate hex he had cast was a candle to an inferno.

And yet the pragmatic part of his nature swayed him to hide the sheets in his robe in the prospect they might have some future use, though he couldn't imagine what at the moment.

Garadon gestured at the bloody bodies before it, "How will you explain all this when you return home?"

"I'm not *going* back! There's nothing there but another collar for my neck. No, I have a chance to escape that life and I'm taking it-" the wizard turned to the thief, "Though I would welcome your company, if it's possible."

Garadon considered the drow's offer. Long ago human thieves had left it for dead, claiming the enchanted armour it had been bound to protect; the failure of that task had driven it mad, but now perhaps that failure had released it from this age old prison as well, "Let me get my things".

Its things amounted to studded leather armour from with a shortsword and two daggers hanging from the belt, a bow in hand and quiver on its back. Together, the two sought an exit to the world above.


	2. Chapter 2

The Dark Fellowship

The Hatori Graveyard

Chapter 1

Clutching the dead tortoise in her clawed hands the harpy crisscrossed the dunes looking for a perch from where to eat her kill. Landing on one of what appeared to be rocks protruding from the sand she overturned the animal then bit a sizeable chunk out of its soft belly. While munching on the reptile she casually looked at her surroundings, noticing the other rocks looked similar to the one she stood on- and that they appeared in a nearly straight line…

Realizing her danger too late the harpy took to the air. Before she could get far a pair of massive jaws belonging to the beast whose spine she had unknowingly perched on lunged out from beneath the sands and snapped shut on her wing, crushing it. A moment later the beast's jaws did the same to the harpy's ribcage. After swallowing the rest of its meal the beast propelled itself through the sand with the speed and grace with which a crocodile would move through water.

Far from such carnage lay a hill capped by the ruins of a tower long toppled. In the last remnants of twilight the dark elf Shoutanei stood over the rubble, seeing the surface world with his own eyes for the first time. Beside him his newfound companion Garadon the doppelganger took on one of its preferred forms- a handsome human male.

"Interesting ability," Shoutanei remarked, "But not one that would come so easily to myself. I suspect it is safe to assume a drow would have difficulty assimilating to communities like those," the elf pointed toward a small village in the distance.

Garadon nodded, "True but I know a city far south from here called Balaiassi. People from so many different races dwell in or pass through it even a drow could blend in- or at least be less likely to be speared on sight."

The two headed south; to avoid discovery they hid during the day and moved at night, keeping to growth off the road but always in sight of it. The terrain gradually shifted from forest to grasslands to desert, eventually dark elf and changeling laid their eyes on short, squat towers rising above a mud-brick wall.

'This is what surface dwellers call a city?' Shoutanei couldn't help but feel disappointment; still, a crude haven was better than an elegant cage.

The made their way into the throng seeking entrance, a group so massive the guards simply waved it through, too exasperated to watch for any undesirables.

Realizing they would have to seek employment or at least some means of self support the two sought out the city's bazaar, a district saddled with the unflattering (but not entirely inaccurate) nickname 'Thieves Market'. As they took in their surroundings a rough voice caught their ear, the voice of a beggar whose smile faded when his remaining eye saw the two were more interested in the space he occupied than in donating any coin.

"This is my spot," the vagrant snarled, " Find your own."

By whispering the right words Shoutanei created a great sphere of magical darkness, not directly harmful but enough to alarm the uneducated masses gathered. With merchants and buyers alike bolted in panic Garadon grabbed the beggar by the jaw with one hand to muffle any screams then plunged a dagger through the one eye the beggar had left. Garadon dragged the corpse to a nearby alley and left it there, when he came back the darkness spell had expired and the crowd calmed itself, no one seemed to notice the unfortunate soul was even gone, or showed no concern at any rate.

Soon after taking the beggar's space Shoutanei set up shop as a 'street magician', over the following weeks he would combine sleight of hand with simple cantrips to create magical illusions the crowd would gawk at and reward with coin and applause; while this happened Garadon moved about relieved some of the more distracted among the elf's audience of their purses. It was not an ambitious life, but for now the two were content.

One day Garadon saw a mark almost too good to be true. The fat man was a passer-by, not watching Shoutanei's performance, but he wore fine silks and the pouch from his belt practically dragged him down. Also the fool was so distracted he barely noticed let alone reacted when Garadon 'accidentally' collided with him. The fat man turned a corner and Garadon held the purse at eye level, wondering how someone could miss the weight of a pouch so heavy with coin.

Garadon's mark made his way to an alley shielded from the light of day. The one he was to contact awaited him; her form was feminine but the cowl concealed her face and her hands were pulled up into the sleeves of her dark blue robe. She turned in his general direction and asked, "You have the map?" her voice had a slight hiss, like that of a snake.

"You think I would have come all this way to tell you I didn't?" The fat man grinned while reaching for his purse, when his fingers closed around empty air the smile evaporated, "I've been robbed!"

"You hid the map in your purse?"

"The map was the purse! Drawn on the inside so no one would see it! Who- that clumsy oaf in the marketplace! If I can recall what he looked like…"

The contact shook her hidden head, "My master will be greatly upset."

"You think I'm not?" blood rushed to the mark's face, "But we had a deal- I brought the map to this city, and I was supposed to be paid up fro-"

He never finished his sentence. A flash of blue lightning lanced from within the contact's cowl with a crack of thunder, striking him down. The stink of burnt flesh wafted from his charred face.

"That," his contact retorted, "Is the only payment fat fools deserve."

That night as the sun set Shoutanei and Garadon crouched over the tiny table in their tiny lodgings to count the day's gains, both earned and stolen. Garadon beamed as he untied the pouch he palmed from the fat man; on seeing its contents both were surprised, not to mention disappointed. There were indeed many coins, but all of them lowly copper, "I'd have thought there'd be at least a few silver pieces," Garadon lamented.

"Wait a minute," noticing something, Shoutanei swept the coins aside with his hand. Inked on the interior of the cloth was a map showing a path from the city to somewhere deep in the desert, the cardinal point north and a crude depiction of- "What kind of animal is that?"

"A hatori," Garadon's eyes widened, "They're thought to be related to crocodiles, swimming through the sands the way their cousins swim through water," the doppelganger looked up, "I've heard stories of a specific place these creatures go to die when their time is almost up; that their carcasses may hold possessions of the people they've devoured over their days- gems, gold, remnants of fine- maybe even enchanted armour or weapons.

"What if those stories are true, and this is the proof? Someone could have found the location of their graveyard are and marked it on this cloth? If we reach the place, who knows what we might find?"

"One problem, at least," Shoutanei pointed out, "If this map is accurate, the graveyard is so deep in the wastes we'd die of thirst long before we reach it. The amount of water we 'd need to bring to survive the trip to and from is so great we'd never be able to carry it on our backs."

Garadon pondered the drow's words, "Yes… But I might know of another way…"


	3. Chapter 3

The Dark Fellowship

The Hatori Graveyard

Chapter 2

In the light of the following dawn Garadon spoke to Shoutanei as the dark elf set up for work. Their eyes fixated on dwarf slaves who carried a massive litter on their shoulders. A silk veil obscured all but the vaguest outline of the litter's occupant, a figure with the bulk of an ogre and a strange 'fish-shaped' head. The bearers of the litter each wore a strange blue amulet, as did the well-armed human mercenaries completing the procession.

The shape shifter leaned forward to whisper in the elf's ear, "He's known as Haseid Malaan- the water merchant. I don't know of anyone who can say what people he comes from or where he goes on his sojourns; but cheap wine helped me loosen the tongue on one of his guards enough to find out inside his villa he keeps a magic bottle that never runs out of the liquid- it's how he can supply the whole city with water- for a very steep price."

Shoutanei pondered these words, "What kind of security does this merchant have aside from hired guards? Mystic wards? Guardian monsters?"

"Both. But a few more mugs of wine got him talkative enough to let slip that the merchant's soldiers and servants can move about and avoid triggering the defences with those amulets they wear- but for some reason the guard seemed to find the notion of stealing from his employer himself literally unthinkable."

"Perhaps the merchant is a mage himself?" Shoutanei guessed, "Still, if we are to liberate this magic bottle for our own use we'll need help." A small crowd started gathering to see the drow's performance and Garadon got out of the way.

Instead of lifting the unwary of their coin as usual, Garadon put 'his' mind to work on the problem Shoutanei brought up. Then it saw an urchin in the alley pedalling dark lotus- or at least what he claimed to be dark lotus- to the gullible.

The dealer reached for his dagger as Garadon approached but the doppelganger held up his hands- one empty, the other holding a silver coin, "No need for that. I've no taste for weak lotus but I'm willing to buy information- where would one go to in this city to hire cheap muscle?"

"Hire muscle?" the boy looked suspicious of the question and Garadon's motives for asking, sellers of illicit chemicals were not known as trusting souls.

"Sometimes they make criminals fight in the arena," the dealer finally answered, "It's not unheard of for one to buy a fresh convict on the cheap." Garadon tossed the coin toward the dealer then went to tell Shoutanei what he had learned.

His audience dispersing in the high noon sun, Shoutanei joined Garadon as they made their first attendance at the arena. Reluctant to pay extra for seats they contented themselves to stand in the 'pit' with peasants or other skinflints. A corpulent human dressed in somehow both expensive and tacky robes announced the arrival of the city's champion, the gladiatrix Arakhett.

At these words a human female, bronze-skinned and shapely muscled trod upon the arena dirt. Fitted with leather studded armour she twirled a net in one hand and raised a trident in the other. The crowd greeted her with great cheers, and a few more lascivious words of encouragement.

"And the lawbreaker scum granted the honour of a glorious death at Arakhett's hand, the sole survivor of a pack of bandits foolish enough to assail one of our city's blessed caravans- Kezreck the bugbear!"

Loud boos and crude insults preceded the emergence of a furry, seven foot mountain of muscle, with an ursine nose and large, batlike ears. Unlike the warrior woman this Kezreck was only armoured in a ratty loincloth, and his weapon amounted to not much more than a long stick half-heartedly sharpened on one end. It took little reasoning to deduce that this was not meant to be a true battle but the brute's execution.

Arakhett stalked toward her intended victim with a smug smile, twirling her net as she moved. Kezreck shifted from one foot to the other but apart from that stayed in one place.

Finally the goblinoid acted, throwing his joke of a spear. To the crowd's delight Arakhett dodged the projectile easily then bolted toward the brute, ready to tangle his legs with her net when he tried to run.

Alas for Arakhette her opponent seemed to have anticipated this very move. He feinted a pass to make her swing the net, but instead of getting caught he not only leapt clear of the hempen leg trap but managed to grasp a few of the ropes comprising it with his left hand. Upon landing Kezreck jerked the net back with enough strength to pull his executioner off her feet toward him- and his oncoming right hook. The breaking of her jaw resonated like thunder.

Arakhett fell to the ground, still breathing but prone. Kezreck dropped the net then picked up her trident. Striding toward his attacker he looked down on her then, raising the trident high, plunged her own three-pronged instrument of killing down through her torso and pinned her to the dirt beneath.

While the remainder of the audience responded with cries of outrage Shoutanei and Garadon looked at each other- they had found their fighter.

After the day's bloodsports concluded Shoutanei and Garadon sought the arena master to inquire about the acquisition of Kezreck. At first Shoutanei was concerned that defeating the city's champion might raise made the bugbear's price considerably. Fortunately, at least for them, Kezreck made for a difficult prisoner; several handlers had already been severely injured, if not maimed merely by taking him to and from his cage and the arena master was willing to accept a large discount just to get rid of the creature, though even the lowered price was still nearly all of the month's savings. For the two, much was riding on this venture to the deep desert.

Kezreck hobbled toward them; a steel bar linked the shackles on his wrists to those on his feet, inhibiting any possible attempts to run or lash out. The arena master handed Garadon the key to the manacles and wished him luck as he left.

"You should know masters," Kezrech dragged the last word out as insultingly as he could, "Should I ever escape these, the first thing I'll do is wring both your scrawny necks."

"Duly noted," Shoutanei replied, "Garadon, unlock him."

The words caught Kezreck by surprise, Garadon approaching with the key even more so.

"We didn't come here to buy a slave," Shoutanei explained, "We came to hire a killer."

Kezreck's scowl metamorphosized into a grin, "Well why didn't you say so?"

Four nights later. At the villa gates stood two human warriors garbed in cloaks over splint armour and resting their palms on two-handed swords. Both wore the same blue amulets the other guards and servants of the water merchant did, on sconces above them lit torches fought back the darkness.

Garadon waltzed into the radius of the torchlight; wearing its own leather armour but without the bow or quiver. 'He' also wore the face of one of the guards; once visible made he insulting expressions with that face and rather obscene gestures with one hand hoping to bait them into pursuit.

The provocation worked perfectly, they hoisted up their blades and bolted forward intending to hack the offender to bits.

Garadon let them get halfway close before retreating; when the guards chased him past an alley Kezreck sprung out from behind and bashed the backs of their skulls in with the spiked mace he had brought on the ill-fated raid that ended in his capture and the deaths of his kin.

They dragged the bodies into the alley. Kezreck put on one of the amulets and after putting on a cloak of one of the guards as well as his countenance Garadon wore the other amulet as well.

Kezreck looked back to Shoutanei, who still remained in the shadows, "Won't the elf need one too?"

"He will, I'm about to take care of that now." Garadon tried and failed to heft the greatsword of the dead guard, it was too heavy for 'him' but its daggers would suffice for what it had in mind.

Picking the lock of the service entrance rather than attempt to infiltrate the heavy, barred doors to the main entrance of the manor proper, Garadon noticed a servant down a hall, candle in hand. Feigning a cry of pain it shuffled forward playing the part of a wounded guard. The servant came closer to help, Garadon ended his servitude with a stab in the back of his neck. Hiding the corpse in a convenient broom closet Garadon waved its confederates inside, giving Shoutanei the amulet the servant no longer required.

After unfastening and dropping the dead guard's cloak, Garadon drew its own sword as the three stalked the manor halls. They encountered no more servants or, strangely enough, no guards either. And while they found no visible signs of the mystic wards that supposedly were placed about the manse, on more than one occasion all three, upon passing a particular location suddenly felt something should have struck them dead on the spot; a feeling that coincided with the stolen amulets they wore briefly glowing a bright blue.

They followed what sounded like a fountain down a flight of stairs, at its nadir they spotted their objective. Past a thick but raised stone wall lay a stone path toward a pedestal. Atop the pedestal rested an ornate flask no taller than a wine bottle, but from which somehow a stream of water constantly erupted filling the shallow pools surrounding the path- the fountain they had heard from above.

Instead of rushing ahead blindly, the three appraised their immediate surroundings; Shoutanei noticed a gear mechanism on their side of the raised wall, and assumed it was meant to send the barrier crashing down to trap thieves on the other side. From within his robe Shoutanei brought out a dagger crafted from rare adamantine, a memento of his underdark life that the taller Kezreck used to wedge between the gears.

Two of the three passed under the barrier normally, Kezreck had to duck. Nothing happened until they neared the pedestal at which point the four surrounding pools transformed into massive, rising snakes made of pure water- called water weirds by the educated few in the know of such creatures. The elemental snakes stopped short of attacking, recognizing the amulets the three thieves wore and instead reverted back to the sedate pools they appeared to be earlier.

Shoutanei doubted the elementals would be so understanding once they tried to take the prize however; he mumbled a learned incantation that was dangerous even if it succeeded, after which some*thing* coalesced in the dark corner to his left, waiting his call for help.

Garadon's skills found and disabled several traps- the water weirds apparently seemed not to notice. Not entirely convinced the pedestal held their prize and not some decoy, Shoutanei cast the Identify spell he prepared for this moment, but had to touch the flask for it to work.

His touch did confirm they had found what they sought; it also triggered ear-piercing alarm wails. Almost instantly the great water snakes rose again, and this time the amulets were not going to hold them back. From the corner a horned, winged creature seemingly made of animate darkness- the shadow demon that Shoutanei invoked earlier- darted out of the gloom lashing into the nearest water weird with its dark claws, distracting the other elemental snakes as well.

Kezreck grabbed the decanter and the three bolted, Garadon and the bugbear ahead of Shoutanei preparing his next spell. Two hired swordsmen now barred their exit and in the distance a dozen more warriors loading heavy crossbows approached. Kezreck's mace brought down one swordsman, Garadon's sword found a weak point in the other's armour. Shoutanei's fireball flew between his comrades and detonated behind the approaching archers, killing them before they could loose their quarrels. While the three remaining water weirds battered at the shadow demon the thieves moved back under the raised wall; then Kezreck smashed his spiked mace into the gear mechanism and the heavy partition slammed down behind them.

"This was your plan?" Kezreck bellowed at Shoutanei and Garadon while the three made their retreat.

"Hey it's working so far!" the dark elf yelled back.

Senior Guardsman Ussim studied the scorched bodies of the archers. Behind him Alimi, a servant of the Caliph stood looking worried. In the distance lesser guardsmen pooled their strength to raise the lowered stone barrier to show two more dead guards and several wide puddles before an empty pedestal.

"The Decanter of Endless Water," Alimi all but screamed, "Our city is doomed without it"

"WHAT HAS HAPPENED HERE?" Ussim and Alimi turned to see the Water Merchant's scaly face staring down on them with cold,black eyes.

'How did he return so quickly?' Ussim pondered, 'I saw him leave the city almost a week ago.'

"Mighty Sahir," Alimi cried, addressing Malaan by one of the many pretentious titles the water merchant insisted on, "A great tragedy has befallen us, the means by which you provide our blessed city with water has been stolen."

"Who has dared violate my sanctuary? Who has dared steal from me?" Malaan yelled, either literally or figuratively deaf to the vizier's concerns.

While Alimi pleaded with the merchant Ussim stepped toward the dead swordsmen, walking under the raised wall his subordinates had found a way to brace up. In a guard's blood lay a massive footprint made a foot that wore no boot- and sported short claws.

"I may know who's responsible for this," Ussim called out to get Alimi and Malaan's attention, "This is a bugbear's footprint. A few days past a human and a dark elf bought the bugbear that killed Arakhett from the arena."

A lesser guardsman named Hassan spoke up, "There's a drow who works as a street magician at the Thieves Market. I've seen his act several times."

Alimi toadied up to Malaan, "I assure you illustrious provider, these scoundrels will be hunted down and punished most-"

"I will find these poltroons myself," Malaan snarled, "And I will punish them myself. You and you city guard just stand around looking incompetent- it's what you excel at." then stormed off. As Alimi and the guards left the estate Hassan headed toward a particular tavern.

The bartender placed the drink before the robed figure who had come to acquire the map that a drow, bugbear and doppelganger now possessed. A scaled hand emerged from her sleeve to grasp the wooden wine cup and raise it to her hidden face.

"Lady J'Hem'Stoan?" She turned to see Hassan, a member of the Balaiassi city guard she had bribed to watch out for and inform her of unusual developments, "I haven't found that cloth map you spoke of, but a drow, human and bugbear stole Sahir Malaan's magic water bottle earlier tonight.

"I think the drow may be the same one who performs magic at the bazaar. I can take you to the inn where he and his human companion are staying."

J'Hem'Stoan nodded and followed the guard out; this theft may have nothing to do with her task, but if she did not return to her master with the map soon he would come to her, and he would be very angry.

The innkeeper insisted Shoutanei and Garadon had packed up what little they brought and left, still Hassan intimidated him into handing over the key to their former lodgings. Hassan went in first to confirm the room was empty; after exiting to report it was, J'Hem'Stoan entered to inspect the dwelling more thoroughly.

She did not find the map; however many cloth purses now empty and discarded assured her that the thieves who lifted the map from the buffoon she was supposed to purchase it from once called this place home. She picked up one of the stolen purses; it would be enough for her to scry their location.

The Lady J'Hem'Stoan left the room and headed downstairs with one who appeared to be guardsman Hassan following- after which the room's door casually swung shut exposing Hassan's corpse, his neck broken.


	4. Chapter 4

The Dark Fellowship

The Hatori Graveyard

Chapter 3

The impersonator of city guardsman Hassan followed the cloaked 'Lady' J'Hem'Stoan through a labyrinth of alleyways, then down an innocuous opening to the city sewer. Her path led to what looked like a ordinary facet of earthen wall. A scaled hand touched three different spots on the wall, then a section of it about three feet wide slid away from her and to the side.

J'Hem'Stoan turned to address the guardsman, "The chapel is dangerous for nonbelievers. Stand guard outside until I have further use for you." The false guardsman's eyes showed a flash of anger, but he nodded and silently obeyed.

Lady J'Hem'Stoan strode reverently into a chapel dedicated to the dragon goddess Tiamat- and by the very nature of the being it honoured, had to be built and tended in secret. Though she was a trained mage instead of a true cleric, her servitude to one of Tiamat's children entitled J'Hem'Stoan to both lodgings in and the resources of the temple. Being the dark of night he chapel's 'parish' had gathered for mass, the Lady made the appropriate signs of devotion before going to the cell she temporarily called home.

J'Hem'Stoan lowered her cloak's hood, revealing a humanoid form but with a hide of small blue scales, slightly brighter than the robe she removed and the face of a great wyrm. Holding a stone chiselled to show a dragon's face she knelt down in the centre of a circle of coloured sand on the room floor, where she cast her sending spell aimed at the stone's match in her master's hoard.

"I have found the map's thieves, the location of the hatori graveyard will soon be yours," J'Hem'Stoan broadcast. In truth she had yet to scry for their whereabouts but to her mind that task was a forgone conclusion and at the moment appeasing her master seemed the higher priority.

"Do not fail me again, little hatchling," the master replied using his patronizing nickname for his dragonborn wizardess, "Lest I take matters in hand myself."

Deep in the desert. The moon bathed the arid sands with light, revealing the animals that emerged after dusk rather than dehydrate in the burning sun, including three that had hidden from the sun in a tent. Shoutanei spoke the right command word revealed to him by the Identify spell, and the stolen decanter brought forth life-giving liquid for him and his two accomplices.

Kezreck gulped his share down grimacing afterwards. The first time he drank from the decanter he voiced his sentiment that proper drink for a grown bugbear was ale or liquor, something with bite. That statement led to a discussion about the caravan he attacked alongside his brothers, though caravan might be an exaggeration; as it consisted of only one wagon transporting barrels of a fine whiskey imported from a remote country far up north, presumably by one of Balaiassi's wealthy elite.

"We'd been shadowing the wagon for days," Kezreck told them, "We knew their habits, their weaknesses. When we made our move they never saw it coming.

"My javelin went through the one guarding the driver, a dwarf in plate mail armed with a heavy crossbow- and struck the driver as well. By the time any of them noticed my brothers had already cut down two of the others and cornered the last, a human stripling who could barely hold up his sword his hands were shaking so much. It wasn't until that gnome got involved that things went wrong."

"What gnome?" Garadon asked.

"He wasn't even part of the caravan, just some drifter who talked them into giving him a ride. When he realized the wagon was being attacked he started slapping two small drums that hung from his belt, singing something in a language I didn't recognize. Everything started to look hazy and my legs felt too weak to hold me up…

"The next thing I remember, my hands were bound and tied to the back of the wagon, with the human driving and the gnome aside. I looked behind me and saw the bodies of my brothers in the distance. When we reached the city I heard the human brag that he killed three bugbears single-handedly, to prove his claim he showed the guardsmen a necklace on which hung the left ears he cut off my brothers' heads."

Garadon reflected on this last part of the story, and mentioned what the gnome did sounded like tales he heard about some rare minstrels who could work a literal magic with their song. Kezreck said if that was what happened then the true blame for the deaths of his kin rested with the gnome.

"To die in battle is a risk we all accepted and prepared for, but to be rendered unable to fight back, to do anything other than stand there and wait to be run through- I never heard that runt's name, but I'll always remember his face."

The three drank their fill, folded and packed up their tent and moved on, heading in as much a straight line as possible toward the legendary Hatori graveyard- assuming the cloth map that guided them was accurate or even genuine- each had at least once wondered if this venture was really some sort of fool's errand.

As the humanoids moved they saw little other than seemingly endless stretch of dunes, the occasional snake, lizard or plant. All was quiet, even peaceful, yet it was not to last; as before them sounded the eerie keening of a desert wind that carried flailing desert sands their way.

Covering their eyes with thick cloth the three huddled beneath the nearest dune, staying motionless until the winds above them turned silent, indicating the sandstorm had passed. They crawled out to see they had evaded one danger only to find themselves facing another.

Before them stood beings that resembled human males dressed similar to citizens of Balaiassi, yet all eight ranged between sixteen and eighteen feet in height. The giants seemed as surprised as the three's presence as the three were to see them; but the surprise quickly faded and the giants' expressions turned sinister. Their curved swords seemed to sing as they were drawn and the giants wielding them charged forward.

J'Hem'Stoan approached an acolyte of Tiamat's chapel requesting the use of an important piece of temple property to serve her master's will. The unsure acolyte relayed the request to a tenured cleric, who agreed and brought forth a scrying bowl forged from purest mithral, inlaid with rubies, emeralds and other fine gems. Though the one that sent J'Hem'Stoan on this task could have provided her with a focus from his hoard, greed and a suspicious mind conspired to keep him from trusting her not to run off with something of such value, despite repeated demonstrations of her loyalty in the past.

J'Hem'Stoan filled the bowl with water and rested it upon the floor. Bringing forth the stolen purse she retrieved from Shoutanei and Garadon's former lodgings she used it as her link to the elf and shape shifter to divine their location.

She located them far out in the deep desert, where no roads existed and no caravans went. The spell was limited to their general whereabouts, she could not see what they saw or what lay behind them. At first they were sedentary, and J'Hem'Stoan suspected they had chosen to rest during the day. But soon the thieves started to move, albeit slowly.

They stopped again, staying still for a period; when they finally began to move they suddenly turned in a different direction, and more quickly. Either they chose to or something, if not someone was forcing them to deviate and pick up speed.

J'Hem'Stoan decided she had to act swiftly, or the map may end up in the hands of others she had no way to track, if not destroyed altogether.

Hands bound behind them, Shoutanei, Kezreck and Garadon marched ahead, each with a giant's scimitar close to his throat.

A fourth desert giant braced on his shoulders a fifth, whose knee had been smashed in thanks to Kezreck's spiked mace. The bodies of the other three shrank from sight behind them.

Their captors brought the three to a pavilion of two tents, one smaller than the other; though from a distance or up high both would have appeared to be typical sand dunes. A short distance from both tents rested a cage made from strong steel; its lone occupant concealed under heavy cloth.

A ninth giant strode from the smaller tent; this one was female and carried no obvious weapons. She masked her face with a veil like the women of Balaiassi but the cloth seemed to have different meaning to desert giants than humans; in Balaiassi the veil was a symbol of subservience, yet the way the giants bent knee to this female she was obviously the leader of the group.

To Shoutanei this observation brought back unpleasant memories of the lash of Lolth's priestesses; for that he hated her already.

The giant who bore his injured comrade stepped closer to her and spoke, "Lady Vahnabi, these runts," Kezreck took particular offence to the insult, "Showed up out of nowhere. Though we were able to overwhelm them they killed Abiz, Mekmet and Hamir."

The giant leaning on his friend's shoulder pointed to his ruined knee, "The hairy one did this," he gasped.

Vahnabi reached for the giant's knee, "Poor Haldiin," she took a motherly tone, "The nasty goblin-kin hurt you so." Her other hand brought out what looked like a holy symbol, but of a deity that drow, bugbear or doppelganger alike failed to recognize; she chanted what sounded like a prayer, and suddenly Haldiin's bashed in knee was good as new, a little miracle that only contributed to Shoutanei's loathing.

The giant that had acted as Haldiin's crutch before took off and emptied the pack that held their prisoners' stolen possessions; these included enough rationed food for an extended trip in the desert, and the stolen magic decanter.

Vahnabi picked up the decanter, curious that one small bottle of water could have sustained the three of them this far out into the wastes. She chanted a different set of words, and suddenly her expression announced she knew the bottle's secrets.

'She is not merely a priestess but a magus as well,' Shoutanei seethed, 'This keeps getting better and better.'

The giant that dropped their belongings also produced their map from his belt, "They also had this."

Vahnabi took and studied the markings on the cloth, "A Hatori," she gasped at recognizing the beast's depiction; she turned to address her new prisoners, "Does this map lead to the legendary hatori graveyard? Is that what brought you out this far?"

Her only answer was three venomous stares. "Fine, hold your tongue," she spat dismissively, "It matters not, we shall see for ourselves. Lock them in the cage with our other guest, they should fetch a decent price somewhere, and store their things in the group chest. Haldiin will be sharing my tent today."

The four giants muttered sentiments about Haldiin always being her favourite but obeyed; when shoved into the cage Kezreck yelped in pain, as the rough treatment reopened a gash on his left thigh that had been inflicted by one of the giants in the skirmish.

At this point the cage's first prisoner stirred from its covers; before the three rose something that resembled a nearly six-foot mantis, standing on its lower two limbs, an extra set of smaller arms protruding beneath the limbs that extended from its shoulders.

Garadon and Kezreck regarded this being with curiosity, but Shoutanei backed up against the cage bars; in his academy days literature plundered from the world above described to him the warrior mantids known as thri-kreen, both of their appearance and their alleged taste for elf-flesh. He had no desire to find out if the inscetoid considered drow 'dark meat'.

Garadon however, sensing both Shoutanei's fear and the thri-kreen's intent calmed the elf down, "It's alright friend, the bug man does not plan to eat you."

Instead the creature approached Kezreck; stretching out a left arm, he said no audible prayer but the bleeding cut on the goblinoid's leg closed immediately. Motioning them to turn around, its mandibles cut their bonds.

Then the mantis 'spoke' to the three, though he did not voice any actual sounds but instead communed with them telepathically. He introduced himself as Path-Chak, and professed to be a priest of Nak'Cha'Dok, the little known patron of sentient insectoids. He told a story of how the desert giant bandits surprised his small clan as they fed on the body of a fallen camel. Vahnabi countered his magic with her own while his brethren fell from thrown spears. Path-Chak himself was taken prisoner, and would overhear Vahnabi talk of selling him to travelling shows or something she called a zoo.

All four agreed their mutual freedom, in all likelihood their mutual survival depended on cooperation against the desert giants. The question was how to proceed from here.

"I can hit the men's tent from with a cloud kill spell, I only need to say the words and make the gestures, but that won't help unless we get out of here." Not counting on being imprisoned by roving giants, the previous days he had prepared other spells in lieu of Knock or Rusting Grasp.

Kezreck turned to him to ask, "What about that shadow thing you called back at the water merchant's digs?"

"I can only attempt to summon a shadow demon once a day, and there's no guarantee one will answer. Even if one does, it could be the same fiend I called to hold back the water weirds while we made our escape."

Kezreck considered the last words, "You're right, I suppose it would be upset about us using it like that."

Something occurred to Garadon, it removed its right boot then, reaching inside and peeling back the cloth dug out a metal tube, "I'd forgotten I even had this, it's been that long."

Shoutanei saw the metal device, "What is it?"

"Part of a payment for a job I did for some wizard before ending up in that vault where you and I met. He called it a chime of opening, said I can use it to open locks by striking them with it. They're usually a foot long; he somehow shrunk the thing so I could conceal it better.

"Problem is, he said it breaks after ten uses and I've opened nine locks with it before now. I planned on keeping it in reserve for an emergency- then again I suppose this qualifies as much an emergency as any."

Garadon struck the bars with the chime, it cracked and the cage unlocked itself. Shoutanei began to cast the spell.

Within her pavilion an hour later Vahnabi dressed herself as did Haldiin, her preferred but by no means exclusive consort. She then picked up and scrutinized the cloth map, Haldiin looked at it as well.

"Even if it does lead to their burial ground," he started to ask, "Do you really think gems and treasure will be found in their guts? Seems to me they would have crapped out such things long before their time to die came."

Vahnabi pondered this, then answered, "Even so, there should be no harm in going to look. It's not as if we fear to die of thirst, not with the magic decanter those little people so generously donated." She chuckled at her own cruel joke.

Haldiin interrupted her laugh with words of alarm, "Wait- do you hear that?"

Vahnabi quieted and listened for a moment, "I hear nothing."

"Exactly," Haldiin answered, "Patala's snores can scare away a basilisk." He moved quickly to don his leather armour, Vahnabi had him drink a potion of Invulnerability to better his chances in danger, then cast Mage Armour upon herself.

Haldiin came out of the tent first, eyes open, sword held in one hand, in the other arm a giant-sized javelin ready to soar. The cage was left wide open, but neither the bars or the lock appeared damaged, its occupants nowhere in sight. He called out to his fellows, none of them answered.

Vahnabi saw her lover rush out to investigate the tent, counting the moments to see his return and hear his report. Soon she tired of waiting and bolted out after him; when she saw what lay in the tent brought a shudder out of her.

The four giants were dead. Something had killed them in their sleep, but no blade, bludgeon or bolt marred their bodies. The sight itself chilled her so much she did not even notice the chest in which they stashed the belongings of their prisoners had been smashed open and looted.

Vahnabi and Haldiin spun around and looked outside the tent each straining an ear for the sound of their former captives. Finally three of the four leapt out of the sands. Haldiin hurled his javelin at the bugbear, who barely ducked in time. The one who looked human shot an arrow at the priestess, the thri-kreen flung two three-pronged throwing blades toward her paramour.

Vahnabi's protective spell deflected the arrow, even broke it. Haldiin swat aside one blade with his sword, the other cut through his sleeve, but bounced of the skin, thanks to the potion Vahnabi had him drink earlier. The priestess-mage sneered and began to cast more offensive magic, whilst Haldiin looked left and right for the fourth prisoner.

Before Vahnabi could complete the spell a mass of black, strong tentacles rose from the ground beneath hers and and Haldiin's feet; disrupting her enchantment and forcing Haldiin to drop his scimitar. At the giants struggled vainly to break free Shoutanei stepped out from behind the larger tent, staff in hand; he gave a smug smile to Haldiin but when he looked at Vahnabi his expression turned even darker.

Haldiin turned his head to curse the drow, Garadon shot an arrow through his open mouth. Vahnabi screamed at the sight, another arrow went through hers.

Under a minute later the tentacles Shoutanei conjured dissipated and the giants dropped to the ground. When satisfied neither would get back up, Shoutanei, Garadon and Kezreck looked to Path-Chak.

Shoutanei broke the silence, "We owe our freedom, if not our lives to your help. Likely you have a home to return to, but if not we would welcome your companionship."

Path-Chak paused at the offer, then he nodded.

Kezreck held up his hand, "A little problem with that- even if the giants hadn't eaten some of our rations, we still wouldn't have enough for four people."

Path-Chak looked to the bodies of Vahnabi and Haldiin then through telepathy suggested a practical, albeit unsettling solution.

Kezreck looked at Shoutanei, "He's not serious, is he?"

"Sometimes one must do questionable things to survive," Shoutanei replied, "If you help him Kezreck, Garadon and I will retrieve our map and see if there's anything useful we can salvage from Lady Vahnabi's tent." Watching the dark elf and doppelganger stride into the smaller pavilion, Kezreck eventually shrugged and went to assist Path-Chak in the task of butchering the bodies of the two giants.


	5. Chapter 5

The Dark Fellowship

The Hatori Graveyard

Chapter Four

Lady J'Hem'Stoan paced a short distance from the city gates, fidgeting as she did so. She was eager to move out, find the map to the location her master desired and punish those who had complicated her task by intercepting it.

However unlike those thieves the wizardess had no Decanter of Endless Water at her disposal; she had to prepare create food and water spells over more offensive magic just so she could survive long enough in the deep desert to track them down. Fortunately the city guardsman she had bribed into her service clamed to have friends skilled with the sword and who could also be bought; it was the arrival of these friends she was awaiting this moment.

Finally Hassan arrived with eight other fighters in tow. J'Hem'Stoan studied the reinforcements; seven of them wore blue amulets not unlike the slaves and mercenaries worn by those that served the water merchant Malaan. The eighth was a northern boy who looked too young to be out after dark.

J'Hem'Stoan looked to Hassan; the guardsman spoke to assure her, "These men lost friends to the thieves you're after, they're more than up to the task. And Darvin here," he gestured to the boy, "Is the one who captured the bugbear the thieves recruited- after he killed his comrades." Darvin grinned like an idiot, pulling up the twine necklace that reached down beneath his shirt collar he showed the three left ears he cut off the bodies of Kezreck's brothers.

J'Hem'Stoan found the strength within to hide her scepticism, as time was running out and she tired of twiddling her thumbs. The hired killers in tow, she strode to the city gates and bribed the guardsmen to let them out. Despite the Caliph's best efforts, rumours that Malaan's means of supplying the city with water was lost had spread and many, rich and poor alike had attempted to flee the city- the wealthier had an easier time of doing so.

Out in the desert, Kezreck and Path-Chak overturned the steel cage that had confined them the night before. On the wider back of the cage they laid down strips of flesh peeled from the bodies of the two desert giants Vahnabi and Haldiin. Path-Chak had suggested they do likewise with the giants in the larger tent but Kezreck, already uneasy about eating flesh of beings in humanoid form felt even more so about beings who had basically inhaled a cloud of poison gas and talked the mantis warrior out of it.

Leaving the strips of giant's flesh for the nearly high-noon sun to convert to jerky, the bugbear and thri-kreen made for the late Lady Vahnabi's tent. By this time Garadon had found the chest that held the Priestess's personal belongings, disabled the traps set within and unlocked it. Both he and Shoutanei stepped aside to let their allies look at the contents it held.

They found two scroll cases, each containing spells scrolls written in surface common. One held scrolls for arcane spells including several of Identify, and three of each for Insect Plague, Flesh to Stone and a rare one Shoutanei had never heard of before- Leomund's Secret Chest. The second case contained spells of healing and restoration; Path-Chak claimed these as being a cleric, they would be more useful in his pincers.

Also within the chest were numerous vials and small bottles; most they assumed to be various potions yet Garadon recognized a bottle of Sovereign Glue. What use Vahnabi might have had for a vial of magical adhesive was anyone's guess; even so Garadon took a lesson from Shoutanei and held on to it.

Lastly in the chest was a small metal sphere that weighed about three pounds. Shoutanei took it in hand as he cast an Identify spell; through it he learned the sphere was enchanted so to imprison larger creatures, perhaps for sale to that zoo she intended to unload Path-Chak on. The wizard gave the sphere- the Iron Bands of Bilarro, as the spell named it- to Kezreck; its magic did need activation by a wizard but Kezreck had the strongest throwing arm of the four.

Finally, the four searched the bedroll for Vahnabi and whichever giant she deigned to share it with, finding their cloth map. Determining the direction of east from where the sun had risen; they extrapolated the direction of north and where to find the graveyard from their present location. Then they hunkered down in the tent Vahnabi no longer needed, waiting for night fall.

Several nights passed; through her scrying magic J'Hem'Stoan made the most direct route to the thieves' last location. Eventually she and her killers came across the two tents of the desert giants; those who had died from Shoutanei's cloudkill spell lay in the larger tent mummified from the region's heat. To even her disgust, the bodies of two giants left outside the tent had had the flesh methodically peeled from their legs. As the Wizardess speculated out loud the thieves likely did so to make rations of giant-flesh the killers following her reacted with understandable disgust- curiously enough, Hassan did not seem unsettled in the least.

"We'll make camp here for now," J'Hem'Stoan bid; when several men grumbled about eating near dead giants with only bones for legs she snapped "Well then, bury them first if you must! I need to be alone for the moment."

The spell caster made her way to the top of a dune several yards from the tents. Drawing forth her sending stone she made her brief report to her master, "We gain more ground on the thieves every day, master."

"You will soon have the map? I sense you are very far in the desert wastes," her master inquired.

"If the thieves' trail continues unhindered, they may lead me to the very graveyard itself," J'Hem'Stoan sent back. Instead of specific words she detected what seemed like laughter; evidently her master was amused by the idea that greedy-fingered interlopers would actually guide him to the location he sought.

At a quickly shrinking distance ahead of the dragonborn, the dark fellowship she pursued had also stopped to rest and eat. Shoutanei again distributed water from the magic decanter; Kezreck passed around some of the diminishing rations they had brought from Ballaiassi, while wondering, once those rations ran out, how long he could go hungry before he had to eat dead giant flesh.

Once the group had fed and drank, Shoutanei studied the map. Making a rough estimate based on the graveyard's direct distance from the city as inked on the cloth he determined it was only a few days travel from their present location, if all went well- a fairly large if, he had to admit.

Path-Chak telepathically asked how this hatori graveyard had not been found earlier; Garadon spoke to him out loud, "It's a large desert. Unless knowing exactly where to go a group could wander the wastes for days, maybe weeks and not find it, eventually wasting away to starvation or thirst even if they never encounter predators or bandits."

The four pondered this in silence; after a few moments Kezreck asked out loud, "Suppose we come across one of these hatori on its way there to die- you think it's going to try and make a last meal out of us?"

Shoutanei suggested he keep such contemplations to himself from then on.

Five nights later, in the rough area indicated on their cloth map, the full moon's light revealed to the four what at first appeared to be a series of sand dunes, huddled close together and as massive as any of the high hills of the north. The wind had been still since the last couple sunsets, sparing a possible trail to the group's left that led betwixt two of the dunes. Rushing ahead to where the trail terminated they hurriedly dug away at the sand- soon uncovering the long, snaky tail, then the paddle-like rear legs- of an elder hatori, presumably aware of its soon passing, guided to the graveyard by instinct, and finally expiring under the sands where it now rested.

The carcass of the recently dead 'crocodile of the sands' was immense, just past its rear legs the husk rose almost a foot higher then Kezreck on his toes. At first Kezreck and Path-Chak, the physically strongest of the troop each grabbed one of the cadaver's hind legs, with Shoutanei helping Kezreck and Garadon assisting the thri-kreen they attempted to drag the carcass out of the way.

The troop managed to heft the creature's shell close to three feet, but it simply refused to budge any further. They silently pondered a way around the obstacle until something occurred to Shoutanei; the wizard looked to Garadon and Path-Chak, "Could you two cut away its scales with your blades, make an entrance through its flesh?"

Kezreck looked to the dark elf, "Cut into the thing?"

"Either that," the drow answered, "Or we wriggle in through the creature's-"

"Never mind," Kezreck spat out, having guessed where the reply was headed and eager to stop it before it got there.

Garadon and Path-Chak nodded; the thief drawing his short sword whilst the mantis-cleric raised in his upper arms his gythka- a long polearm with a large curved blade on each end. Though while alive the hatori's scales had been a natural armour quite capable of deflecting such weapons, in the short time since its death they had turned brittle and soon the blades carved into the creature's midsection a hole large enough to grant passage into the bowels of the beast.

They entered single file, Kezreck at the fore. Making uncomfortable passage through the hatori's gullet they reached the beast's skull. Pushing as far toward the hatori's snout as his bulk would allow the bugbear hoisted its upper jaw high up over his shoulders, bracing it so his companions could see past him.

The sight was bewildering. Beyond the jaws held up by Kezreck stretched a maze of naturally-occurring tunnels leading to the remains of hatori that had interred themselves here over the centuries; many rotted away almost to nothingness, but here and there a few remained, albeit far from whole.

To keep the dead hatori's skull from crashing shut behind them Path-Chak stabbed one end of his gythka into the lower mandible and held it upright; upon which Kezreck crouched, allowing the upper jaw to fall on the pole arm's other end. Once they made sure the brace would hold the four cautiously stepped further into the graveyard proper.

Their respective races shared the gift of darkvision, allowing them to see in the utter absence of light; yet its range was finite, and they were denied the ability to discern colours beyond various shades of grey.

To overcome this limitation Shoutanei reached within and drew upon the fey heritage all elves- even drow- shared; around the huddled party four globes of magical illumination came into being. As maintaining the dancing lights required most of Shoutanei's concentration the other three watched for any baubles among the rotting husks; they matched the wizard's pace and direction, the lights moving as he moved.

For most of the dead hatori their bellies held little more than the paltry remains of what they had last eaten, if even that. A few however, showed more promising contents- a few coins of ancient mint, the odd crystal, remains of weapons and pieces of armour, though all of those had been rendered useless if not by the creature's teeth then by too much time immersed in the juices of its stomach. In one's belly Garadon sifted out a ruined set of adamantine throwing knives crafted in the drow style- its presence a more of a mystery than a valuable find.

One husk bore gifts outshining the others around it. What were likely once two finely crafted chests had been reduced to splintered planks yet one protected ingots of gold, bronze and platinum, the other a spectrum of exotic gems including rubies, emeralds and sapphires. Hilts and hafts of ruined swords and spears lay scattered about, though useless for defence they were gilded from rare electrum plating with the occasional jewel set in place. The least chewed-up suit of armour was still too sorely damaged to protect anyone; all that was left really was a helmet and breastplate, both punctured by Hatori teeth. But both were also crafted of light, strong mithral; precious in itself. In the breastplate's centre was set a diamond the size of Kezreck's fist, above the helmet's brow lay four rubies- and a space where presumably a fifth ruby once was set.

"This sucker must have eaten a whole honour guard," Kezreck blurted out, "Trusted to guard a caravan moving a tribute- or ransom."

"I certainly hope it wasn't a ransom," Garadon contributed, "Because if so it obviously never got paid." Only a few more hatori carcasses were easily accessible; inspecting them uncovered a few trinkets, curious but petty compared to the trove found in the one.

As the four lost track of the hours exploring and gathering their newfound wealth Garadon was the first to sense it; a hostile presence- more like multiple hostile presences- approaching from without. "We're no longer alone," the doppelganger cried out, bringing forth and stringing his shortbow as he spoke.

They set toward the carcass from which they had entered the graveyard, whose jaws were braced open with Path-Chak's gythka; they'd barely taken a few steps when they saw the husk bolt away from where it rested- and the cleric's polearm along with it!

From without the legendary hatori burial grounds J'Hem'Stoan watched the killers recruited for this sojourn haul the monster's husk from its resting place, a task requiring even the coordinated muscle of eight men to be enhanced by a strength spell she had prepared- except, surprisingly, for Hassan. He had even bragged as much beforehand; his bravado and physical prowess alerting for one who was supposed to be a lowly city guardsman.

That lowly guardsman turned to ask the youth Darvin if he would do the honours; it took the thick-headed man-child a while to get Hassan's meaning, but then the dumb brat stepped forward and yelled out, "Hey bugbear- remember me?"

"Too well," Kezreck growled upon hearing the voice of his kin's slayer, tightening the grip of both hands on his spiked mace.

"I'd offer you your lives for your surrender, but these guys that came with me- well, some friends of theirs were killed by you and your friends," Darvin taunted, "So they wouldn't show your bunch mercy even if I wanted them to- which I don't!" the buffoon laughed at his own joke, everyone else just rolled their eyes.

J'Hem'Stoan looked on as the soldiers readied their weapons, bringing the sending stone forth from her robe she said in a whisper that her master would hear from across the desert, "We are here, my lord."


	6. Chapter 6

The Dark Fellowship

The Hatori Graveyard

Chapter Five

The sun crested the eastern horizon, it's ascent marking a new day. Its rays showered upon a stretch of desert that appeared the picture of serene calm. Insects fled a pursuing scorpion, flower buds on the small cacti dispersed across the dunes opened up to welcome the morning light.

In an instant the illusion of peace was obliterated. A massive bulk stabbed into the air from beneath the sands, scattering plant and animal alike. The intruder from underground pulled himself to the surface on four strong legs; it's dark-blue scaled bulk took up more space than a peasant's hut, his slender tail lashed out behind him, longer than the rest of his body. As he broke into a running start- tearing great divots out of the ground as he did so, two great membranous wings unfolded from his side, helping to propel him into the air.

AzuraSapphirion, a blue dragon owing nearly four centuries of life to guile and raw power- took to the skies, soaring in the direction from which his servant last contacted him.

In the depths of the same desert, close to the sand-covered mounds that concealed the near-mythical graveyard of the 'crocodiles of the sands', that servant Lady J'Hem'Stoan watched the hired thugs she had brought to this place prepare to shed blood. Five of them, including the dim youth Darvin drew swords; three loaded light crossbows. These lacked the penetrating power of the kind their fallen friends at Malaan's villa carried, but were still preferable to getting within blade's reach of their enemies.

Hassan, the guardsman who hired the men also drew a sword, but insisted on staying back as the others prepared for invading the newly-formed entrance to the burial mounds- "Blocking the enemy's retreat," he said.

The four inside the graveyard retreated further within, searching for a defensible location. The tunnel they backed down forked into two shorter, narrower passages, each terminating at the rotting remains of a long dead hatori. Garadon saw Path-Chak clutch two Chatkcha throwing blades in his lower arms, and offered his sword, which the thri-kreen declined. As they backed into one end of the forked tunnel, Shoutanei and Kezreck took the other.

Shoutanei had already ceased concentrating on his dancing lights spell, with the darkvision he and his comrades shared the lights would only give them away to the anticipated invaders. Right now the dark elf weighed what offensive magic he could use; the winding compact tunnels did not favour the web spell, the explosion created by a fireball could collapse the tunnels on their heads and it would take only the slightest gust of wind- natural or sorcerous- from the tunnel's entrance to blow the toxic fumes of cloudkill back in their faces.

That left magic missile and witch bolt, but he had prepared only one of each so he would have to make them count, and the flesh to stone scroll he had liberated from the giantess Vahnabi. Shoutanei brought that sheaf before his eyes ready to read; Kezreck raised his mace in both arms, itching to smash in someone's skull- multiple skulls if he could help it.

The killers they awaited did not take long in their search; soon eight men rushed to meet them. Of the five brandishing shortswords two also raised lit torches, bringing light for them and the crossbowmen at the rear- and thus condemning themselves to be the first to be attacked.

Already reading the scroll out loud as the first pinpricks of light appeared, Shoutanei concentrated the spell toward the nearest torchbearer. The human froze on the spot; shifting into statuary, the light he carried extinguishing. Garadon dropped to the ground to give his insectoid ally the room he needed; Path-Chak flung one of his chatkcha toward the second. The throwing blade bit deep into the bone of the human's arm; the torch fell to the dirt, going out as it did so. Now the numerically superior humans were at the disadvantage!

Rising to one knee and bringing his bow forward, Garadon put an arrow through a crossbowman's eye, dropping him on his back. Casting his spell of witch bolt, Shoutanei struck the skull of a second with a sustained arc of lightning. Though the spell lit up the darkness the illumination gave no aid to the enemy; in fact the screams of the warrior coupled with the horrific sight of him dropping his weapon to clutch his rapidly roasting skull with both hands petrified the warriors almost as much as the one literally turned to stone- giving Garadon the moment he need to shoot down the last crossbowman.

As Shoutanei's witch bolt expired the killer he slew with it crumpled to the ground, and the tunnels lapsed into darkness again. Kezreck howled as he bolted toward the blinded enemy with mace held high; Garadon ducked back down so Path-Chak could cast his second chatkcha into the gut of the torch-bearer he wounded before, then dropping his bow and baring his sword simultaneously he also pressed his attack, while the humans swung and stabbed their blades into the dark hoping for a lucky strike. Shoutanei started his last spell; while choosing a target, he saw the torch bearer he had petrified earlier- and loosed a volley of wizardly blasts onto him, just in case.

The enchanted darts slammed into the statue's neck; as it toppled the head broke loose and rolled free.

The unlucky human to fall within Kezreck's reach was Darvin, the stripling who once gloated when he pierced the hearts of the bugbear's three brothers whilst they stood entranced and defenceless. This same murdererous youth had unknowing turned his back to the goblinoid in the confusion, swinging his blade through empty air and pleading to any deity within earshot for aid. Kezreck provided deliverance in the form of his mace crashing down on Darvin's thick-but-not-thick-enough skull.

As the brute took his vengeance Garadon's sword arm had cut down the second last human standing, then impaled the other. In moments the four had struck down a host twice their numbers without a loss themselves. However it was premature for any celebration; Garadon still sensed two minds that wished them harm lurking from without the tunnels. Yet now, as Path-Chak wrenched his throwing blades from the torch bearer's corpse and Garadon recovered his bow, the dark fellowship decided to bring the fight to them.

Out in the open desert, near the new entrance to the mounds, J'Hem'Stoan and Hassan strained their ears for sounds of how the skirmish went. At first they faintly heard the yells of human bravado; but those yells quickly gave way to the hum of electricity, thuds of arrows striking flesh, screams of panic- then nothing.

It took little to deduce the fate of the human slayers, "Useless creatures," Hassan started grumbling in a phlegmy voice that sounded nothing like how he spoke minutes earlier, "I should have known I would need to do this myself." With that, he stomped into the tunnels, not bothering to bring any source of light.

J'Hem'Stoan watched Hassan enter, unsure what to do herself. Finally she reached down and drew the bewitched dagger from her belt. The blade usually served as a focus for casting spells rather than for stabbing enemies; but just getting to the graveyard had exhausted her prepared spells; the only other weapon she had was the lightning breath of her dragon ancestors, and that could be unleashed only once before at least an hour's rest. Dagger held in a tight grip, she stepped cautiously after Hassan.

The dark fellowship cautiously stepped through the tunnel, stalking toward the way to the light that would expose the one opening out of the graveyard. Garadon could not sense the presence of anyone lying in wait, nevertheless all of them kept wary eyes open for any dangers.

They froze as a single figure approached, sword in hand. He resembled a human dressed as a Balaiassi city guardsman, but with a smug sense of superiority more commonly seen on a decadent noble of pompous advisor.

He strode toward the four confidently- overconfidently if anything. Though the tunnels were all but lightless he showed no difficulty in seeking them out, no apprehension- as if he possessed the gift of darkvision himself.

Shoutanei stopped the 'human's' advance when he spoke the statement, "You're no mere guardsman."

Hassan stood up straighter; likely he'd have turned his nose up if not for the fact doing so would've momentarily forced him to take his eyes of the four, "I should hope not," this time his voice sounded like how the man's speech usually did, "And you three are no mere thieves- that you've come this far proves that."

Hassan looked directly toward Path-Chak, "You were not with these vermin when they dared steal the property of the great Haseid Malaan. You struck down his servants, but only in self-defence. Malaan can be merciful- stand aside and you need not share their execution."

In response Path-Chak only raised the chatkcha he held in his lower arms.

Hassan shook his head in disappointment, "So be it."

By the time the four registered the emergence of a robed womanly figure with the head of a wyrm Lady J'Hem'Stoan had already parted her jaws. The volley of blue lightning she spat struck between Hassan's shoulder blades, causing him to shout out a cry of pain that the word intense could not even understate.

Her lightning should have killed him on the spot; though obviously wracked with pain Hassan hunched over and dropped to one knee- hurt but still very alive. It took a moment for the astonished four to notice his back did not stink of smoking, charred flesh but smelled like clean vapour- wafting steam.

"I knew it," the dragonborn hissed as she came closer, "When did you kill Hassan? How long have you worn his face?" Her tone betrayed no affection for the deceased human, merely anger at being deceived for days on end.

"Ah yes, Hassan was this weakling's name," the guardsman chuckled, between his words came gasps and spitting like a catfish pulled from the river, "Pathetic as an agent of law, but useful in a way" the gasping voice took an increasingly sinister tone, "In fooling others and guiding me to the thieves I sought."

Around 'Hassan' a column of foaming, clean liquid that roared like the stormy sea materialized; seconds later the brine fell to the ground, seeping into dirt which quickly dried up as if it had absorbed nothing. In Hassan's place stood a scaled figure both tall and fat, trading soldier's scrubs with vibrant silks fit for an emperor, left hand holding a jewelled trident instead of a sword.

Though the only other time Shoutanei had seen this form all but his outline had been obscured by a litter's silk veil, as the dark elf and his comrades stared into the wholly black eyes of the literally fish-faced being that towered over even Kezreck they recognized the true form of the self-styled water merchant Malaan.

J'Hem'Stoan reflexively backed a step, without even realizing it she belted out the lone word "Marid!"

"Yes- Marid," the imposing figure loudly touted, "One of the greatest of the greatest race of the mighty genies."

Shoutanei snorted at this boast; his studies in a dark elf wizard's academy provided him with little facts concerning the elemental incarnations known as genies, but taught enough to know that every individual of the entities imagined their race above all other living beings, their specific breed superior to other branches of geniekind and themselves in particular the peak of their own type of genie- in that order. Malaan gave no reaction to the elf's insolence; if he even noticed he likely considered the derision of such a mortal not worthy of his wrath.

"Yet even a sheik of the elements," Malaan continued to rant, "Must deal with the inconvenience of pack rats who would plunder his treasure for their filthy nests. I feared I would have to scour the wastes, if not the world entire to find those that thought they could steal from me with no consequence- then I was blessed to stumble upon a pitiful would-be wyrm whose otherwise meaningless quest would lead me to the very thieves I sought."

"And now that you have brought me to them," Malaan spun around to face J'Hem'Stoan, "I need suffer your company no longer." Seeming to forget all about those thieves of which he spoke Malaan advanced on the wizardess, his trident raised to attack.

Exhausted of spells and even the breath of lighting, but too stubborn to think of fleeing, Lady J'Hem'Stoan held her dagger high and charged forward with a defiant shriek.

Mesmerized by the sight in front of them the dark fellowship watched Malaan plunge his trident into the dragonborn's gut, her dagger slipping from her hand as she crumpled to the dirt beneath her. The genie stooped to gloat over the dying enemy; enraged by her laughter he growled, "What could be so funny?"

"My master approaches," J'Hem'Stoan spat blood as she spoke, "To punish you and claim the riches here for himself. You never knew it but you- and them," she looked to the four, "Died long before I did. You've been dead this whole time…"


	7. Chapter 7

The Dark Fellowship

The Hatori Graveyard

Chapter 6 and Epilogue

As the proclamation of death for all hissed from J'Hem'Stoan's dying snout a tense silence fell over the tunnels. The four looked to each other, drawing brief, deep breaths, waiting for something- anything.

Finally they heard it. Far from without the graveyard, came the sounds; faint at first, they intensified until even before it neared enough for Garadon to sense its thoughts they knew winged doom was descending upon them.

"The dragon," Shoutanei whispered to his fellows; he then turned to address Malaan "When that wyrm gets here," he spoke out much more loudly, "It's not only going to kill just us, it will hunt down the one who slew its servant," the genie stared right into the dark elf's face, "But we may have a better chance of besting it if we-"

"Do not insult me with the offer of an alliance!" Malaan spat with all his venom, "I am the great Haseid Malaan- I do not fear overfed lizards, and I need no help from frail mortal thieves like you!"

Malaan thrust out his arm, from which a great burst of water thrust toward the dark fellowship, knocking all four of them from their feet and carrying them back down the passage from which they had trod. They slid until their bodies made contact with the wall of the twisting tunnel; the water gushed past them and deeper into the tunnel, some of it soaking into the dirt as it flowed. Having helped each other off the muddy ground they stomped toward the genie- eager to show that fish-faced freak how tiresome his tantrums had grown.

As they advanced upon Malaan, they froze. Malaan's trident stabbed into the ground, the marid stepped in their direction and crouched to grasp something- the decanter they had stolen from him! Likely the water jet he had hosed the four with had knocked it away from them; as he plucked the bottle from the ground he cradled it with both hands.

Malaan sneered at the four, "You had to learn the secrets of this to sustain yourselves," he chuckled, "But it can do more than that. There's a third command; one you likely had no use for, but in my hands can be all the more powerful," he raised the bottle to the tunnel ceiling above.

"He wouldn't," Shoutanei gasped; realizing Malaan would he turned to scream at Garadon, "Shoot him- now!"

Unsure what was about to happen, Garadon hesitated; by the time he snapped out of it and started to raise his bow it was too late. Holding the decanter like some sacred offering to the sky Malaan exclaimed, "GEYSER!"

AzuraSapphirion approached the massive dunes from above. They were larger than any other dunes in the wastes; an opening reminiscent of a cave in other lands was in sight, from it stretched a furrow that ended at the corpse of a behemoth resembling a crocodile with flippers for feet. Lady J'Hem'Stoan spoke truly it seemed, this indeed was the site of the legendary hatori graveyard.

He closed in on the mounds when from beneath one an eruption blasted into the air; out of reflex his wings propelled him back, his eyelids slamming shut. Opening them on his next approach AzuraSapphirion saw one of the burial mounds had ceased to exist; in its place was a crater surrounded by a halo of soaked, muddy sand. Near an edge of the crater, in an opening into a neighbouring dune were four humanoid figures but the dragon barely registered them; his eyes fixated on the scaly creature who stood in the crater's centre holding some stupid bottle above his head- and J'Hem'Stoan's body at his feet.

The dragon descended to about ten feet from the marid; looking straight down at the genie he snarled, "You have gall to murder one of my servants, fish-face."

Malaan gave a grin revealing tiny, piranha-like teeth, "Your servant had outlived her usefulness to me," Tossing the bottle above his head aside, the trident vanished from where he had planted it in the dirt and reappeared in his hand, "I fear you no more than I did her."

His wings thrusting him higher into the air, AzuraSapphirion belched out a blast of lightning toward Malaan, but when it crashed into the ground the genie was already airborne himself; he exulted as he rose into the skies, his lower body in the shape of a twisting whirlpool.

In the scant seconds between Malaan throwing down the decanter and the dragon's breath attack Shoutanei barely managed to retrieve the bottle and back-pedal to his companions; stuffing it in a pocket in his robe he asked all three at once, "Well, what do we do now?"

"Let them fight," Kezreck advised, "And hope who wins is hurting real bad."

Seeing the looks the other three gave him an idea surfaced, "Wait a minute," recalling the Iron Bands of Bilarro, he touched the sphere strapped to his belt and looked to Shoutanei, "You know how to activate this thing, right?"

Shoutanei nodded, "The Identify spell taught me the proper command word."

The bugbear turned to Garadon, "You still got that bottle of magic glue?"

Assuming Kezreck meant the bottle of Sovereign Glue Garadon brought forth the container, "This stuff needs to be exposed to air for about a minute…"

"Perfect," Kezreck grabbed the vial with his free hand, broke the lid off with his thumb, "You just be ready with your bow- you'll know when."

A stray bolt of the wyrm's lightning breath shot over their heads, scorching the mud behind them. As they crouched Kezreck spat out the next part of his strategy, "Split up! Elf, thief, go around that way. Bug-man, you're with me."

Ducking their heads they divided into two groups and move to flank the space between the battling genie and dragon. The route Kezreck and Path-Chak took left their backs exposed to the outside desert; looking around Path-Chak saw that behind him in the distance was the hatori carcass whose jaws he had wedged his gythka between. A sound from the battle above regained his attention, but only for a moment.

For the first time since he met his new companions the thri-kreen felt powerless. His instincts told him the dragon would eventually win but his chatkcha would not breach those scales, and Kezreck had yet to reveal what role the thri-kreen played in whatever strategy he was cooking up.

Chittering to himself, Path-Chak recalled the scroll of divine spells he claimed from the dead giantess Vanahbi. Rifling through the sheaves of healing wounds or dispelling curses, he found something promising- a spell labled Banishment. Briefly looking back to the carcass he made up his mind; no one saw him bolt to the distance, their eyes glued to the skirmish above.

Malaan laughed insanely as he dodged a swipe of the dragon's claws at the last instant. By now both genie and dragon had lashed out at each other more times than should have been possible; only when he struck AzuraSapphirion with one jet of water like what he had struck the thieves with for their arrogance had any of their hits connected. But the battle grew tedious; coming to the conclusion that making the reptile too angry to think straight would help end this fracas sooner he shouted out an appropriate insult.

"You should be glad your servant is dead," Malaan yelled, "She would be embarrassed by your ineptitude!" Stung by words, a dragon whose scales could break spears roared as he whipped his head toward the one who dared mock him- giving Malaan exactly what the genie wanted.

The wyrm opened his jaws to exhale thunder on his enemy; Malaan's water jet struck first, slamming straight into the dragon's chest. The elemental blast failed to knock the dragon back any distance, but successfully disrupted his attack and worse, provided his enemy with the perfect opening.

Trident in front, Malaan charged toward AzuraSapphirion's left wing with all the speed he possessed. Tearing through the wing's membrane, he left a hole too wide to allow for flight, the dragon tumbled to the ground.

AzuraSapphirion survived the fall, but knew his flying days were over. He pushed to right himself; turning his head he saw Malaan hovering close by, ready to loose another taunt.

"Oh dear, it seems you have a tattered sail," the marid mocked, "Maybe you can jump enough high enough to catch me- shall we try?"

AzuraSapphirion did not jump, he merely closed his damaged wing- allowing him room to smack the genie with his long, powerful tail.

Malaan struck the ground this time; before he could even realize he'd been hit, let alone get up the dragon blasted the genie with one last volley of lightning. By comparison, what the Lady J'Hem'Stoan had hit him with was a scratch- the breath of her master obliterated the arrogant elemental, who died with a screech that seemed to linger in the air.

AzuraSapphirion swung his head to the sky and screamed his triumph. But it was a costly victory- his agent was dead, his wing harmed beyond healing. The only consolation he had was finding the hatori graveyard; if the stories of the wealth it hid proved to be only that…

Finally he noticed them. Three mortal specks- a drow, an oversized goblin-kin, and a man- no, some shapechanger wearing the face of a man, AzuraSapphirion was not fooled. However he seemed more confident then he truly was; not only was he too sorely injured for flight, it would take at least a day's recovery before he could use another breath attack. This battle would have to be fought and won with tooth and claw.

No matter, he had won such fights before. His scales would deflect the changeling's arrows and the brute's pointy stuck he knew, the true danger was the elf, that one had the look of a wizard. Best to eliminate him first.

Rearing on his hind legs, ready to pounce, the sound of footsteps caught his ear. From behind he saw a ridiculous bug-man running his way. It clutched a strange double-spear in its greater arms, one smaller arm held a parchment that crumbled as the insect targeted him with some wordless spell…

No! AzuraSapphirion felt the pull of another dimension, but he would not give in; with every iota of his will he resisted. When the spell failed, he had decided on a new target, he would kill the bug-man first.

Twirling the vial of Sovereign glue in the makeshift sling he had converted his belt into, Kezreck was surprised to see the dragon suddenly look behind; even more to the bugbear's surprise Path-Chak- whom he had failed to notice even left his side charged the wyrm, gythka held high. Though the bugbear heard no incantation, for a moment it looked as if the cleric cast something on the dragon, but whatever it was, the spell failed and the lizard found a new delicacy.

He'd counted on the dragon attacking Shoutanei first but Kezreck like to believe himself adaptable, besides one target served as well as another. Angling his swing slightly he pitched the bottle toward the wyrm's open maw yelling, "Now!"

The bottle was maybe an inch above the dragon's tongue when Garadon's arrow shattered it; AzuraSapphirion suddenly found his mouth full of some sticky goo- that muffled his shriek of outrage!

Chuckling at the sight Shoutanei almost missed seeing Kezreck toss his other surprise- the Iron Bands of Bilarro; pressing his palms near his mouth he shouted out the utterly nonsensical-sounding word "BLUDSTUK!"

Immediately the tiny metal sphere unravelled into flexible steel ribbons that enlarged at least twenty fold, wrapping themselves around the nearest creature, which happened to be an unfortunate blue dragon.

The wounded wyrm seethed with more rage than he ever thought even himself capable of; to his frustration the four frail mortals he should have easily crushed approached him tentatively.

Kezreck backed a step on seeing the dragon struggle- and fail to break its bonds, he turned to Shoutanei and asked, "You sure that thing will hold him?"

"Every twenty-four hours he has a chance to break free. Unless," He looked to his doppelganger and thri-kreen friend, "We do something about it now."

Drawing his sword, Garadon buried the blade hilt-deep in the dragon's left eye; at the same time Path-Chak plunged his gythka more than halfway through the wyrm's right. Upon the reptile's passing the Iron Bands untangled and reverted back to a small metal sphere that rolled to Kezreck's feet.

Satisfied the danger had passed Shoutanei slapped Path-Chak across the mandibles, "What in the Nine Hells were you thinking? Running off like that and then casting whatever it was you tried to cast…"

"Oh lay off…" Garadon started.

"No! We are supposed to work as a team!" the dark elf snapped at the doppelganger before continuing to reprimand Path-Chak, "What you did easily could've gotten you killed-"

"But it didn't," Kezreck interrupted, "In case you haven't noticed- we won. Everybody else is dead, we still got our magic water supply and assuming we find something sharp enough to skin that sucker-" he indicated the dead dragon "We'll have more than enough meat to last until we dig back up all that loot we came for."

Garadon stared at him, "Giant-flesh turns your stomach but you'll eat a dragon?"

Kezreck shrugged, "At least the dragon's not a biped."

Shoutanei was impressed, until that last statement he didn't think Kezreck knew what the word biped meant.

As the four set about recovering the treasures they had gathered the elf silently reflected on his surroundings- what about this site drew hatori when they knew their days were numbered; and after all that happened this day, would future generations of the beasts seek out some other resting place for when their time neared its end?

Across the sands back in Balaiassi, Senior guardsman Ussim looked at the slanting passage dug into the ground, hearing what sounded like a faint roar from it's depths. He turned to see the advisor Alimi present a small chest of gems to a greyish, muscular gnome- the latter quality one he never imagined a gnome would possess. Behind the gnome stood a trio of strange creatures with rough, pebblely skin; creatures who each stood on three legs, saw with three eyes and flexed three arms. The gnome kept almost half of the gems; the rest he fed to the three creatures, who dropped the stones in the wide, toothy mouths at the top of their heads. The strange sight made him shudder.

With Malaan's decanter stolen and the merchant himself vanished every effort had been made to locate a new water source; it surprised everyone when the Caliph's diviners stumbled on a possible answer beneath the city itself! However that new source was separated from the city by more than two-hundred feet of hard stone; when word reached the masses and transients one of the latter- the 'deep' gnome, as he called himself and his people, offered the services of his 'pets'- which he claimed could chew a tunnel through the rock faster than any humans could dig with pick or shovel.

Some feared the find could merely be a small spring that would dry up soon but the Caliph, in his desperation ordered the attempt to reach it be made.

Now it was time to see if it was worth the effort. With a servant carrying a lantern and a temple cleric following him Ussim headed down that passage.

The tunnel the creatures had dug stretched wide and high, and wound in a manner similar to a flight of stairs; as they descended the roaring intensified, drowning out their gasps when they saw what awaited them at the bottom. Just over a foot beneath the passage's exit an entire river thundered past, more than enough for the city's people to drink and wash with in the communal baths- assuming the water was safe, of course.

To test that Ussim produced a tankard he had brought for this very purpose; reaching down to fill it he stood back up and faced the servant. Any order he shouted wouldn't have been heard over the river; so Ussim made his desires clear by thrusting the tankard toward the youth and pressing his sword to the lantern-carrier's neck.

The servant nervously took the tankard in his free hand and gulped it down. After a minute passed and the servant still stood the cleric motioned for Ussim to refill the cup; once they had backed farther up enough for his voice to be audible the cleric cast his spells upon the tankard. To their collective relief he found no toxins or diseases in the water- the river was clean.

Ussim looked upon the masses gathered waiting to hear the news, good or bad; rewarding a smile and nod from him with deafening cheers. When the populace had calmed down Alimi called the officer away to confer with him.

"An underground river," Ussim elaborated, "Possibly spanning the continent. If we are careful it should sustain Balaiassi for centuries."

"And we would owe nothing to that extortionist Malaan," Alimi spat, "Hard to believe the theft we feared would doom this city might actually have benefited it.

"Nevertheless, the fact remains that they endangered Balaiassi with their actions. The Caliph wants the likenesses of this drow, bugbear and man posted across the city; they are wanted criminals and any who travel with them should be treated as such, understood?"

"Understood," Ussim thought the edict was unwarranted considering how things turned out, but he would follow the Caliph's orders. Besides, assuming the thieves even still lived he had his doubts they would be fool enough to show their faces here anyways…


End file.
